


A royal affair.

by skinnylittlered



Series: Hiddlesfacts. [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Buckingham Palace, Comedy, Crack, Gen, House Sitting, Humor, Unexpected friends, helicopter ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnylittlered/pseuds/skinnylittlered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke was just about done with his friend Tom, the this went down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A royal affair.

Luke couldn’t believe it.

It had all started as a fairly normal Sunday morning in the Windsor household, and considering the fact that ever since he had been contracted by around the world phenomenon that Tom Hiddleston was, the term itself had been considerably redefined outside the parameters of the naturalesse of what most would call mundane – because, as it was, Luke’s life could be considered anything but – in ways Luke hadn’t even imagined prior to making his now-pal’s acquaintance. This very succession of logical cause-and-effect chain of happening is, of course why the thirty something year old, after having more or less successfully provided the actor with what would probably be rounded up to the thousandth set of instructions regarding laundry (and the additional explanations of exactly _why_ he was, under no circumstance whatsoever to mix whites with anything other available on the palette of possible colours other than white _“No, Tom. Yes, I_ know _that all the other colours could have white in the composition because it wouldn’t change anything, but that’s not how it works. No, no, no even a sock. It doesn’t matter, man. Just buy another, then. I_ know _about the children in Guinea, I’ve_ been _there, remember? Tom, just leave the fucking socks out – sorry, I didn’t mean to say ‘fuck’, it just slipped – I’ll lend you a pair of mine, okay?_ and a long drive to the same friend’s house, during which Luke found himself rubbing his temples far more often than his nerves actually dictated that he should (force of habit, he thought idly), felt it would only be appropriate that, not only for aesthetics, but the physiological pull he had felt, to pick the otherwise very harmful and especially unseemly vice that smoking was advertised to be. Although, considering the ride he’d been subjected to for the better part of the last couple of years of his life, by this time he was sure the nicotine would do nothing other than to cancel out the side-effects of being a party of Hiddleston’s intimate entourage and business partner. Thus, unboxing an ashtray he’d acquisitioned a while ago in the service of his already addicted friends, but never crossed his head he’d use himself, Luke opened the windows wide to let the autumn London air in, sat at the table, placed the pottery in front of him and lit he first cigarette to touch his lips ever since the gloomy period that college had been.

I was when he unfolded the Sunday paper he’d bought along the way – along with the cigarettes -, knowing that he’d need a distraction for the day, that Luke, utterly flabbergasted, realised that, after all, tobacco might not quite make the cut.

There it was, sprawled over half of the first page of his beloved escape from the unbelievable incubatory that his reality had become, in bold script, dramatically capitalised _Tom Hiddleston has been scientifically proven to be more adorable than kittens and puppies._

What the ever loving fuck.

 

***

 

_What the ever loving fuck._

A few minutes into his reading of the god forsaken article who consisted of a very detailed and scientific-lingo ridden description of the chemical processes enabled in the bodies of the individuals who came into contact with anything Tom-related, something about hormones, pheromones, increased libido, extreme cases of depression and violent outbreaks of impromptu displays of worship, especially within the demographic of, well, the majority of the female population of Terra, really, which, although professionally it was reason enough to throw a party, as an inhabitant of the very planet, it could be classified as a rather scary thought, the man (who seemed to be as perfectly oblivious to the entire ordeal as he usually was when it came to matters such as this – Luke still had exactly no idea as to how he managed to stay so unaware of the torrent of the masses’ adoration, for it seemed to have contaminated the entirety of the Kingdom, and spread, much like the Plague, across the continent and then the rest of the _mappamondo_ in very little time with frightening rapidity) himself called upon _“very urgent business that ought to be attended to in the shortest time possible. I’ll come collect you and we’ll make haste without delay, be ready.”_ So that’s exactly what Luke did, and swiftly nonetheless, because he was perfectly aware that there were few occasions – and those of extreme, undeferable importunateness – that his friend made use of Victorian English to engage emotions of seriousness and even anxiety.

He had had no idea what exactly was going on when, once on the road with Tom, the Buckingham Palace came into sight, and no idea when they were heading towards it. He had remained just as clueless when Tom parked the car, told him to climb out, then did so himself, only to be greeted by a broad man wearing a Bluetooth earpiece (Luke specifically noted, as, in his job, he was more often than not required to don one himself) and a bald head, whom he seemed to be on familiar terms with _“Take care of my baby, Martin”_ , he said, and handed him the keys. He was especially confused when, entering the opulent building through a door he never knew existed, a child (whom Tom referred to as _George_ ) excitedly greeted them, extending his arms to be picked up. Katherine and _Billy-boy_ were soon met, as well, and inquired about their health and _precious little Charlotte_ , pictures of whom he had most definitely received, congratulations issued on how fast and beautifully she’d grown, just like her brother, whose golden blonde hair he affectionately ruffled, earning an aggravated, and just as infantile, _“uncle Tooooom”_ from the toddler in discussion.

To Luke’s complete and probably irreversible dumfoundedness, a lady of the age of venerability walked, then, in the room, aviator glasses low on her nose, so the lenses, although large, revealed a pair of majestic blue eyes that had most likely seen it all in the span of her life, and a pink scarf tied under her chin, covering most of her stark white hair, clearly professionally-coiffed underneath the silky fabric, and patted Tom (who had flexed his knees reverently) on the head.

“Tom, you sweet boy, thank you for being so prompt in answering my call!” she exclaimed, with a posh, well-cultivated accent and high inflexions of voice.

 “It is my most sincere, pleasure, Mrs. E. You know you can always rely on me to spend a few days in here with the doggies. As long as there’s pudding in the fridge, that is.”

She giggled a sweet few seconds then, looking at her watch, cried with alertness, “Ah, chop chop, off we go, darlings, or we shall be embarrassingly late!”

Luke’s mouth hung open and, in his shock, he didn’t realise it was getting filled with the leaves and dust the rough wind caused by the helicopter in which the lot, who had scurried off shortly before, was being loaded. He stared at the machine, then at Tom (too busy waving off his friends to notice him), then back at the helicopter as he wondered how far into narcotics he’d have to go, should pot not prove itself efficient either.

**Author's Note:**

> Why, hello there, my dearly beloved readers! We have gathered here today-
> 
> Yeah, no. We’re not doing this.
> 
> Third instalment of the @hiddlesfacts series. No, I’m not done hounding her with my mediocre writing - she’s just too good for me not to get inspired.
> 
> The prompts I used are this and this.
> 
> WELCOME TO THE NEW FOLLOWERS, @fanfickittycat, @bleslie2000, aaaaaaannnnddd @i-cant-remember-my-old-login. YOU HAVE FUN GUUUYYSS, THANKS FOR THE FOLLOOOOOWWW.
> 
> Hiddleston appears to be set on decimating his fandom, I am surprisingly unaffected *pets the rest of you suffering babies*
> 
> Thanks for the amazing feedback on The saints. You keep me going dudes.
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies, and you stay golden! *pumpkin spice lattes for everybody* *never had one* *but I heard they’re good*


End file.
